


The Sunset Diner

by mitochondriencocktail



Category: Avatar: Legend of Korra
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Crushes, Diners, M/M, Milkshakes, Pining, roadtrip au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-14
Updated: 2020-09-14
Packaged: 2021-03-07 01:07:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,642
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26464642
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mitochondriencocktail/pseuds/mitochondriencocktail
Summary: Modern Universe AU that my friend and I have kicking around in our heads.Bolin, 26, has accidentally sent Opal, his amicable ex from over a year ago, a drunken letter. In an effort to get it back before she gets home from abroad and reads it, he roadtrips across the country with Wei, 22, Opal's brother. He's freshly graduated from a prestigious college in New York City, and is moving back home to San Francisco per his family's wishes. In an effort to help one another out, the two come together and hit the road. But will something else develop along the way?This particular fic takes place in a diner and can be considered pre-slash. So, if you love fumbling boys navigating blossoming feelings, this is for you.
Relationships: Bolin/Wei (Avatar)
Comments: 7
Kudos: 45





	The Sunset Diner

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and kudos and bookmarks are my lifeblood. Please let me know if you like it and if I should write more from this universe.
> 
> Also feel free to point out any typos. I wrote this in one long session LOL

The thrum of cicadas punctuated the stagnant, desert air. Desolate roads reached out like veins into the night for miles on end, dotted infrequently with the occasional podunk town, dusty motels and buzzing, neon diners. The latter was where Bolin and Wei currently stood. 

Bolin had really only ever seen the diners in his hometown, more suburban-bound than anything, but in front of him stood something that felt like it was straight out of a movie; nostalgia for something he’d never actually experienced washed over him.

Only their car and three others were parked in the lot. Large chunks of the pavement were cracked or unevenly patched, clearly showing signs of wear and tear and little repair, and the diner exterior was more than a little faded — no doubt from the sun’s rays over the years — and a glowing sign informed Bolin that it was called the Sunset Diner. The inside was well-lit and incredibly inviting, with only one other table occupied. Something told Bolin that even if it weren’t 1AM, it would be just as vacant. 

“This place look okay?” Bolin asked Wei. The other young man had been staring off into the distance, down the flat road and into the dark. He was tired. They both were. After a long six hours of hitting the road, they both knew there was still quite some way to go before any hope of a motel was to blink into the horizon. Tonight might be one of those nights where they simply pull off to the side of the road and snooze for a couple of hours.

Sometimes Bolin even wondered if Wei was enjoying himself on this trip, or if he was just counting down the days until they reached the Beifong home in San Francisco where he could unload his moving boxes, return Bolin’s stupid drunken letter to Opal before she read it, and send Bolin back on his merry way to New Jersey. 

“Hm? Oh, uh, yeah.” Wei blinked back into the moment. “I’ve never been to a diner actually.”

“What!” Bolin asked, his voice loud enough to startle Wei. “You went to school in New York City, and you never went to a diner even once? How is that even possible?”

“Get off my case, Bolin,” Wei said, crossing his arms. “I was on the track team. I had a regimen that I needed to follow.”

“Pft, regimen smegimen. You’ve graduated now, so come on.” With that, Bolin grabbed Wei’s wrist to lead him inside the diner in front of them. “You haven’t lived until you’ve eaten chicken and waffles after midnight and then topped it off with a milkshake and fries.”

Wei made a gagging noise. “I feel like I just learned more about you than I ever needed to.”

After his eyes adjusted to the bright lighting, Bolin was able to take stock of the diner. At the entrance was a rotating display case filled with cakes and pies; all a bit deflated looking, but tempting nonetheless. A waitress was sitting at the counter, magazine in front of her, when they walked in; no older than 60, but no younger than 40, her blonde-silver hair done up in a large bun.

Bolin caught how her eyes dipped down to his and Wei’s hands, where Bolin was still gripping on to his wrist, so he let go.

“Are you open?” Bolin asked.

“Twenty-four-seven,” she said, flat and unreadable. Bolin pressed his lips into a thin smile, nervous.

“Great! Great. Table for two, if you’ll have us.”

She waved a hand. “Anywhere you want, sweetheart. I’ll be over with some coffee in a minute.”

“Ha! She called me sweetheart,” Bolin whispered to Wei.

“I’m sure you and every other customer,” he replied.

“Spoilsport.”

The pair settled in a booth by the window, though there really wasn't much to see outside. What little visibility there was was mostly obscured by the lights in the parking lot. The booth smelled of ketchup and grease and Bolin was decidedly far more excited than he was anticipating he’d be. Across from him though, Wei glared down at the menu.

“You look lost,” Bolin said. He folded his arms and leaned closer to see what Wei could possibly be scrutinizing so hard.

“This menu has everything from eggs to waffles to veggie wraps to biscuits to lobster…” 

“Well, dummy, don’t get the diner lobster! That’s, like, rule number one!”

Wei shot him a look, and Bolin’s stomach flipped. He couldn’t help the small thrill he got from seeing Wei riled up. It wasn’t that he wanted Wei to be upset, and if he ever actually was, then Bolin would apologize— but there was something nice about seeing Wei let his guard down. It reminded Bolin of when he used to know Wei back at the beginning of his and Opal’s relationship, when that was… still a thing. Wei had been lighter then, more carefree, easier to chat with. He and his brother would razz each other up until it ended in some kind of bet or contest or even a friendly brawl.

“Okay, so, there are rules?”

“No diner lobster, appreciate the coffee for what it is, and tip well.”

Bolin noted a small twitch of Wei’s lips— not that he’d been intentionally looking at his lips.

“I think I can manage that.” A pause. Wei slid the menu over towards Bolin. “Order for both of us.”

“What?” He sat up.

“You love diners so much, then prove to me why they’re so great, oh great Diner King,” he said, voice heavy with sarcasm.

There had been glimpses of this— this more competitive side coming out, and it had thrown Bolin the first few times. But, by now, he found them pleasant surprises.

Bolin accepted the menu. “Oh, it’s on. I’m going to rock your world with a stack of pancakes.”

“Oh, you’re going to rock my world?” Wei asked, leaning back into the booth, arms crossed. “That sounds inappropriate, Bolin.”

Bolin felt his face go warm. “No— that’s not— oh, just give me the menu. Stop being gross. I am a  _ gentleman _ .” He refused to look up from the breakfast specials when Wei let out a small, musical laugh. “As if you’d be so lucky,” Bolin muttered under his breath. 

It earned him a playful kick under the table.

Their waitress, who turned out to be named Patti, brought them two mugs of coffee. The coffee was neither warm nor flavorful, but it certainly was bitter, which was the slap in the face Bolin needed right now to even think about continuing driving. Patti whipped out her notebook.

“What can I get you boys?”

Per Wei’s request, Bolin had ordered each of them eggs, pancakes, bacon, french fries, an order of chicken and waffles to split, and— this was where Wei finally cut in to protest with “I do not want a milkshake, Bolin”— a single milkshake for just Bolin. Mint chip. Whipped cream and a cherry on top. Of course. He was a man of taste, after all. 

“I’m a growing boy,” Bolin said once Patti had left the table.

“You’re 26.”

He just smiled in response, not missing the way that Wei failed to bite down his own smile, a small snort of laughter escaping. “You’re so stupid.”

“Okay, sure, says Mr. ‘I Lived in New York City But Never Went to a Diner.’ Have you even ever dipped a french fry in a milkshake? Have you?”

“Again, that sounds terrible.”

“Uh-uh!” Bolin held up a finger. “It is as the gods say: Thou cannot knocketh it until thou hast triedeth it.”

Another playful kick from under the table, but gentler this time. Wei let his foot rest next to Bolin’s.

“Fine. I’ll try one french fry dipped in milkshake just to prove to you that it’s an abomination and that I’m right.”

Now it was Bolin’s turn to tap Wei’s foot. “Deal,” he grinned.

Their food arrived before his milkshake and Bolin clapped his hands together. It looked even better than the grainy pictures on the menu, which wasn't saying a lot— but it was still something. Hot plates of food were sprawled in front of them, and Patti topped off their mugs of coffee before plodding back to the counter to flip through her magazine.

“Alright, now this is what I’m talking about!” Bolin said. With little fanfare, he began tucking into his eggs, but not without a good spurt of ketchup on top. The buttery, salty eggs went together perfectly with the sweet, slightly vinegary taste of the ketchup. A mouthful of fluffy pancakes. A crisp slice of greasy bacon. Crunchy, slightly stale fries. It was when he reached for the chicken and waffles that he realized Wei’s silence. His plate had already been cleared and his fork was mid-reach for another mouthful of fried chicken drenched in syrup.

Bolin grinned as Wei met his eyes.

“What?” Wei asked. “I was hungry.”

“You like diner food, don’t you?”

A pause. Wei stabbed the piece of chicken that Bolin had been eyeing and stuffed it into his mouth. “It’s pretty good, yeah,” he said, his words muffled by the, well, large piece of chicken in his mouth. Wei’s posture relaxed as he chewed and swallowed. “None of the guys I hung out with at school ever wanted to go to places like this. They always wanted the next bar or gastropub or—” he waved his hand— “rooftop whatever. It was fun, don’t get me wrong, but sometimes I just felt like I was tagging along. Trying to keep up with the other rich kids. I’m not…” his eyes slid out towards the window. “I’m not sure how many of my decisions in my life are actually mine sometimes.” He placed his fork on the table, shaking his head. “Sorry, that was weird—”

“No!” Bolin said. Wei’s head snapped to Bolin. “Sorry! Sorry. Didn’t mean to yell. Indoor voice, like Mako says. But, no… I know how you feel. It’s tough knowing what the right decision is sometimes. Or, well, ever. A lot of my life was just following Mako. Mako does this, I do this. Mako does that, I do that. When our foster dad took us in, I was so afraid of being sent back to the shelter, I just followed Mako around for a month. It wasn’t until, well…” Bolin swallowed, setting down his own fork. “...until Opal and I broke up last year that I really had to think about what I wanted out of life. She’s off being all amazing and helping others around the world. Mako is off being a firefighter and risking his life to save others. Asami is running her family company already at just 28 years old. Korra’s halfway to going pro in women's soccer. What am I doing? Writing stupid drunk letters to my ex-girlfriend about how sad I am and accidentally sending them in the mail.” Bolin sighed, looking down at the table now. “You’ll figure out what you want to do, Wei. You’re nothing but ambitious and hardworking and smart and, don’t let this go to your head, you’re a good looking guy, too. Those triceps? Illegal! Any lady would be lucky to have you.” Bolin bit back the urge to look away, forcing a smile instead. He’d said so much just now, his heart was racing. Where had that all come from? 

Wei stared at him, unreadable, and for a split second, Bolin was positive that he was going to stand up and leave. Just demand the keys from Bolin and take off down the road without him. But, finally, he spoke. “Thanks, Bolin. I...” he trailed off, shaking his head. “Thanks.”

Wei hooked his ankle around Bolin’s underneath the table and kept it there. Neither young man made any indication of it other than a quick, shared smile. Bolin’s stomach fluttered in a way that felt both foreign yet familiar, but he decided not to dwell on it.

The milkshake finally arrived and they had saved a few french fries for this moment. It was sat down in front of Bolin with little fanfare, but he noticed that Patti gave him two straws before walking off with a dismissive, “Enjoy.” 

Odd. 

Bolin quickly tore open one of the straws though and stuck it into the thick, cool green milkshake. Specks of chocolate chips swirled around as he stirred it and he took a dollop of whipped cream off the top with his finger, licking it off. It tasted like high school and first dates. Wei was staring at him.

“Oh, uh, want some?” Bolin said, swiping his finger through the whipped cream again and extending it.

“Just give me a french fry,” Wei sighed, uncrossing his arms to lean forward. Bolin took that as a no, so he licked off the glob of whipped cream. More for him.

Wei pulled over the grease-soaked paper boat of fries and plucked one out, examining it before taking Bolin’s milkshake. He gave it a quick dip, turning the pale yellow an unnatural green. He paused. His expression looked uneasy, like he’d been forced to choose between a gas station bathroom or a busy, open highway. 

“If this makes me sick, I swear, Bolin…”

“I promise you’ll like it! Here—” Bolin, caught up in the excitement, grabbed the other straw and quickly tore it open, plunging it into the milkshake. “You can use it as a chaser if you hate it— which, you won’t. Because I’m right.”

“Ugh, fine,” Wei sighed. With that, he took a bite and, well, he made a face that wasn’t quite disgust but wasn’t quite adoration at Bolin’s impeccable palate. He finished off the french fry, but didn’t reach for another. “Give,” he simply said, reaching for Bolin’s milkshake to take a long sip. “The milkshake by itself is way better.” He took another sip, which had Bolin scrambling to reach across the table to take it back.

“Hey! You had your chance to order one!” He took a large sip to equal out what Wei had already stolen, but as he watched Wei’s expression deflate, Bolin acquiesced. Shoving the milkshake to the middle of the table, Bolin said, “Fine. We can share. Because I am a nice person.”

“Are you sure?” Wei looked up, and Bolin could see the hesitation there. It was just a milkshake. It wasn’t the end of the world if Bolin had to share. 

“Only if you want to,” Bolin said.

Wei made no immediate motions, but after a thoughtful pause, he leaned in to put his lips back on the straw. Underneath the table, their ankles were still hooked together and from this close, their foreheads were almost touching. They sat in a strange silence, but though it was odd for them, it felt exciting to Bolin in a way he couldn’t quite pin down. It was nice having Wei open up, no doubt, but there was something else there that warmed Bolin from inside. 

They finished the milkshake quietly, going slower towards the end so as not to rush into whatever denouement awaited them, and the atmosphere had shifted. The whirr of the air conditioning above them suddenly felt very loud to Bolin. Patti’s acrylic nails tapping against the counter echoed through the diner. The first slurp indicating an empty glass startled Bolin out of whatever reverie he’d been in.

He pulled back first, lips leaving the straw, a hasty arm wiping over his mouth to clean it. He watched as Wei’s eyes followed him.

“You can finish it,” Bolin said, offering a soft smile and hands clasped politely in his lap. 

“Are you sure?” Wei asked, an echo of the question he’d asked before. 

“As long as you’re not a slow poke about it.” 

Wei smiled and slid the glass closer to him, more than happy to clean up the rest of the milkshake. Bolin watched him pick it up to slurp up the rest; carefree, just for a moment, his guard lowered and a childlike jubilance bubbling out of him. Bolin  _ almost _ felt bad for what he was about to say next. Almost.

“Dinner’s on you.”

Wei stopped mid-slurp.

“Just because my family is rich doesn’t mean I personally am,” he said, but with no other protests, Wei took out his wallet and tossed his card on the table. 

“Hey, I’m just the driver. The least you can do is pay me for my services.”

Wei kicked Bolin’s ankle in response, holding a glare only for so long until both young men let out a laugh. Bolin realized he really liked hearing Wei laugh. It suited him. 

Stomachs full, and the sky inky black above them, they walked out into the parking lot, taking a moment to meander. Neither were particularly eager to get back into the car for another long stretch of driving; no doubt because of the restlessness that would come after an hour or so, but also because every mile was a step closer to the end of whatever this trip was.

Wilted pots of petunias that Bolin had missed the first time lined the front of the diner, and unruly weeds made a mess of the cracked asphalt. He squatted down to inspect them. They were resilient. He could admire that. 

A gust of wind tore through the parking lot and nearly knocked Bolin over.

“I forgot how cold the desert can get at night,” he said, shivering. He continued prodding at the strange, tiny plants, fascinated by how intricate they were until something soft plopped onto his head and shoulders. Bolin took the fabric between two fingers and inspected it. A flannel. Wei’s, to be specific. The same feeling he had while sharing the milkshake bubbled up in his throat, rearing its head and dizzying Bolin. He felt like he’d just been suckerpunched and, quite honestly, he wouldn’t have minded it happening again. He tried to chase this feeling, but only stumbled. There was too much food in his stomach right now. His head was too fuzzy with exhaustion and stale coffee.

“I’m not carrying your stuff for you. Just put it in the car if you don’t want it,” Bolin said, fishing around for what was really going on.

“You said you were cold,” Wei replied. He was standing just to the side of where Bolin was squatting, looking off into the distance. 

“Oh.” Bolin instinctively pulled it a bit tighter around him. “Well, in that case, thank you. Glad to see you’re finally treating your driver with the respect he deserves.” It smelled like the diner still, but also like Wei. Bolin looked up at him, drinking in the way his profile was lit up by the light of the neon diner sign; stars reaching out behind him, the horizon a distant thought. Another suckerpunch across the jaw. 

Wei suddenly turned to him and reached out his hand. “We should get going.” 

Bolin took it, letting himself be pulled up so they were face to face. Wei was, infuriatingly, just a couple of inches taller than Bolin, and it was incredibly apparent right now. Bolin took the first step back, dropping Wei’s hand, but smiling. He was tired. They both were. That coffee must’ve been weaker than he thought. “I’ll take the first driving shift. You can get some sleep, if you want. It’s the least I can do after making you pay for dinner.”

“I don’t mind keeping you company,” Wei said, his voice low. It was strange hearing him like this. Bolin didn’t know what to do with it, so he simply left it and began heading towards the car.

“Put on some good music then, at least!” he said, forcing levity into his tone. “I want at least five ballads on that playlist that I can belt it to.”

Each step he took away from Wei left Bolin a bit lightheaded, unsure of where exactly he was headed. All he’d wanted was some diner food, and he’d gotten it, but he had a sinking feeling that he’d left the diner with something else, too. 

He thought of Opal, halfway across the world, and his heart ached in a strange, new way; dulled, but different. He had no illusions of getting back with her, but a strange fear of betraying Opal lurked somewhere in his mind.

“I’ll put on five Queen songs in a row for you. How about that?” Wei deadpanned, opening the passenger side door and getting in before Bolin. He quickly followed suit, shaking the strange thoughts from his head and getting into the car. There was no time for this. He turned the key and started it up.

“If you do that, you’re gonna have to listen to five Bolin Greatest Karaoke Hits of All Time,” he warned.

“Don’t worry, I’ve gotten very good at blocking you out. Aunt Lin was right about you being a chatterbox.”

“I’m wounded! I thought you liked my singing.”

Bolin couldn’t really see Wei’s face in the dark of the car, but he had a sneaking suspicion that he was smiling. There was a soft ‘click’ and the speakers turned on, playing the instrumental part of some over the top 80s ballad Bolin had been singing to earlier. He put the car into gear and pulled out back onto the road, checking both ways even though there wasn’t a car in sight.

In the rearview mirror, he watched as the glow of the Sunset Diner rounded out of the horizon, becoming just another speck along their journey. Whatever memories they made there were now part of them, but remained mostly at the deserted, neon diner. He doubted they’d ever come across it again.

Bolin drove into the night and could still taste mint chip in his mouth.


End file.
